Fallout: Wayward
by CtrlAltDeleteMan
Summary: Once upon a ti-, no... In a world wher-, naa... sit down and let me tell you a-, ahhh screw it! My name is Vin, I used to be your average citizen of Vault 75. I was born there and I was suppoded to die there. And, like most Vaults, mine opened up prematurely. This is the story of me, my mentor, an assassin, a merchant, a wise-ass gouhl, and of The Wayward. Let's do it.
1. Chapter 1

Authors Ramblings

Hello and welcome to well…this…whatever the heck it is. As of typing the first authors note, I have written about three and a half chapters of this fanfic. This is the very first fan fiction I have actually put on paper (I've had a few half-baked ideas in my head but didn't write them down). I'll be honest; I'm writing this more for my entertainment than yours so don't try and message me moaning about how you think it sucks, even though it probably does suck (ain't I just humble?).

Anyway, I don't have any plans for Fallout: Wayward. I don't know how long it will go on, I don't even know much about what's going to happen next in the story. I'm still in high school so If this fic does get popular; don't expect me to become Über-commited to it because I won't have the time. Oh, and one more thing: Don't expect it to be too canon, I do what I want.

**For those not acquainted with Fallout**

In case this little story becomes a school project or something of the sort where some readers may not understand the lingo, I'm going to give you the basics of the Fallout universe. So if you already know it skip on to chapter one. You may want to keep this author's note open in another tab if you are unfamiliar with Fallout.

**Basic History**

The year is 2077; our technology is super-advanced like we'd expect it to be in the future. We have laser guns, robots, and radioactive soda, and somehow we went from awesome personal computers and internet to using terminals. The world has taken on a 50's style culture and, just like in the 50's, another cold war with China. Only this time, we let the cold war elevate to a real war, complete with nuclear weapons. We launch these nukes at each other and the world ends . BUT, in order to save humanity, a corporation named Vault-Tec (the makers of everything that uses electricity) built dozens of underground fallout shelters called _Vaults_.Vaults are self-sufficient and can support life for eons. Sadly, Vault-Tec was evil and corrupt so the Vaults' inhabitants were subject to strange and sometimes cruel social experiments. Year 2277-ish; the world is a wasteland filled with bandits, thieves, murders, and hope for the salvation of humanity is all but lost.

**Vocabulary**

PIP-boy: (**P**ersonal **I**nformation **P**rocessor) A handy device given to the inhabitants of the Vaults, it is a computer worn on the left wrist. It can make a map of everything you see, detect radiation, pick up radio, display your current medical information, and can administer stimpacks and combat drugs. It also give you a head-up display (H.U.D.) that can detect other creatures and mark their intent toward you (red for hostile, yellow for neutral or friendly.)

V.A.T.S.:  It stands for **V**ault-Tec **A**uto **T**argeting **S**ystem, it can increase your reflexes momentarily to the point where it seems time is stopped. You can queue up shots from your (energy gun, melee weapon, firearm, etc.) into your enemies specific body parts. It only works a few times before it needs to recharge, so the operator needs to use V.A.T.S. wisely.

Overseer: The absolute ruler of a Vault. The Overseer's job is to insure domestic tranquility; his/her word is law to the Vault-dwellers. Some Overseers take the name of their job literally and just oversee; some take the name figuratively and become dictators of their vault. Funny isn't it? Dictators are like roaches; not even nuclear war will kill them.

Stimpacks: Almost magical syringes of god-knows-what that can instantly disinfect and close up wounds. These are a commodity

Rad: anything that begins with "Rad" usually has to do with radiation. i.e. _Rad-X_ helps you resist radiation while _Rad-Away_ removes it. "Rads" are the measure of how much radiation someone has absorbed.

Guns and Ammo: I will be using lots of gun-based words. For example; numbers like 5.56 and .357 refer to ammo, For example: 9mm *_blank* _refers to something that fires 9mm rounds ("mm" stands for millimeter or ".cal" stands for caliber).

So… yeah that's it...Go read.

I do not own Fallout

It is owned by Bethesda

But if I did, wouldn't that be awesome?!

Chapter 1: Vault 75

_Here I go again on my own_

_Goin' down the only road I ever known_

_Like a drifter I was born to walk alone…_

- Whitesnake

Boredom

That's all I've ever had in this Vault. Most of my days were spent bouncing a faded red ball across the grey walls of the maintenance hall, waiting for some machine somewhere in the Vault to have a breakdown so I can fill my time by fixing it. I'm one of the only two repairmen living in this wonderfully dull bunker. It was just me and my mentor, Frank.

I've always wondered if the people who did my job before me did it better, maybe Vault 75 would've lasted longer.

My name is Vincent and I've had a miserable existence in this hole. To start, I was short compared to…well… everyone I knew who wasn't five years younger than me. Most of the teens and adults in here were six-foot-something while I stood about five-foot-three, weighing in at 130 pounds. I was a white guy with dirty blonde hair cut short, people have always told me I look like Vault-Tec's mascot; Vault Boy

When I took my G.O.A.T. (that's Generalized Occupational Aptitude Test) I was doomed to this life of boredom after I got the results. The damn thing assigned me to "Vault Handyman". For those of you who don't know; Vault-Tec built these things to last hundreds of years, so a machinery failure was a relatively rare thing. So my days were filled with me sitting on my skinny ass and bouncing my red ball across the room.

Thud...…Thud…...Thud…

My less-than-joyful bouncing was interrupted by the sound of an alarm; coming from the maintenance hall's terminal. I practically skipped over to that little grey box, happier to hear that alarm than I should be. That siren meant something was broken, something for me to fix. The normal green glow of the computer was gone, replaced by red. This was not normal. The screen flashed:

-ERROR-

Malfunction: Radiation Generator

Hazardous Material Leak

REQUIRES IMEADIATE REPAIR

"Awww hell!" I moaned as I read the words on the screen. You see, Vault 75 was part of a Vault-Tec experiment. We were given something no other Vault had: a radiation-powered – generator. It was in a room close to the surface world. That way when we run out of power one day we'll know the rads are gone, signaling that it's time to come out of hiding. Sadly, Vault-Tec's scientists predicted that the radiation won't last as long as it did; it managed to outlast our generator (Good going guys). It had only managed to malfunction once thirty-three years ago, back when Frank was an apprentice like me.

"Uh Fraaaank, we've got a problem!" I said with obvious fear in my voice. "Ah hear the 'larm!" Frank grumbled from the adjacent room. Seconds later, he stood in the doorway. Frank was around six feet tall, like everyone else in the Vault besides me, although he was one of the few overweight people living here. He had dark red, scraggly hair and a large moustache that went from ear to ear. He seemed cheerful to have something to fix "What's the problem Vin?" he asked "What needs fixin'?" I pointed to the glowing green terminal, his normal good mood faded, replaced with panic. "We gotta go tell the Overseer!" he shouted as he rushed out the door. I followed him out, stopping only to hit the bright orange button labeled _Panic Button: use only for emergencies_. This was an emergency.

We ran through or home's atrium, the inhabitants of vault 75, all clad in the blue and yellow uniforms, were following standard emergency procedure by rushing to their respective rooms and locking the doors. Most of them were panicking (hence why it's called the _panic_ button), some pulling their children behind them. We burst into our overseer's quarters (Which is kind of hard since the doors in Vault 75 open when they detect motion).

The overseer greeted us with her usual loud, gravelly voice. "Just what in the hell is going on here?!" she boomed angrily "I didn't authorize any emergency drills!" She was in her mid-thirties, wearing a more ornate version of the Vault's uniform, the kind reserved for the overseer; it had a big yellow 75 on the back. Her brown, curly hair hung down to her broad shoulders, she was (like most people in our Vault) six feet tall and mad as hell.

"Lauren, calm down," said Frank "this is serious, the RadGen…" The Overseer's eyes widened "You shall address me as Miss or Overseer! And what the hell do you mean leak?!" Frank was a normally hard to anger person, but he was too serious to hold his temper. "**I'm your god damned elder so I'll call you whatever I want, and by "leak" I mean all of our lives are in danger! Moron! This is not the time to sit around with our thumbs in our asses! The fucking Radiation Generator is critical!"**

She drew breath for a rebuttal but our Overseer knew Frank was right. She let out that breath in a sigh "…I assume you'll need the keys to the armory and storage?" She said as she dug through her large, C-shaped desk. "This better not a false alarm, or I will turn you both inside-out" She was glaring daggers at us. I grinned a nervous grin "Got it."

We used the card keys the Overseer gave us to access the supplies need to fix the Rad-Generator. Both of us dawned bright yellow suits. These getups supposedly help us resist radiation. God knows we need them because it was extremely radioactive in the generator room.

"Here, swallow this." Frank said as he picked a small pill from a tin on the shelf next to the radiation suits. "What is…ah Rad-X." I said as I accepted and downed the red and yellow pill. Rad-X temporarily altered the body to bounce back radiation; coupled with the suits we were relatively safe from the rads.

Frank put a large glass dome over his head and attached to the suit, he then attached that to a silver oxygen tank. I did the same, we would've look comical if the situation weren't so damn grim.

_What is so friggin' bad about a Rad-Generator leak? _You may ask. I'll tell you; if the generator leaks enough of its fluids it could get into the Vault and poison everything in it. Not to mention the fact that the power could soon go out leaving us to rely on the backup generator, which only lasted five years. _Five years? That's a long time! _You might think that as well, but five years is nothing in Vault Years. Vault 75 has lasted 200 years without opening up. That's a short nap for the Vault. Oh, and that's still five years with radioactive poison seeping into the water supply.

From the armory, we pulled a pair of nine-millimeter pistols and a box of 9mm rounds (F.Y.I. rounds means bullets in gun geek-talk). We needed these pistols because last time the generator needed fixing, there were roaches. Not the run-of-the-mill cockroaches you'd find in your pantry, mind you. These things were the size of footballs, and big enough to take a big bite out of an average-sized person.

My eyes lit up at the sight of the two shiny guns. In high school, I had signed up for the _Wasteland Survival_ course. It included the basics in first-aid, theoretical wasteland economy, what to eat in the wastes (and what not), theories in mutations, and my favorite: guns and ammo. I admittedly slept through economy and first-aid, but I had a strange fascination with guns so I was wide awake learning about them.

Frank handed one to me I handled the gun carefully, following all the safety precautions. Checking the chamber, clip, safety, and holstering it. "Let's go."

Soon, we stood in front of the door unofficially dubbed _The Rad-Lock_. It was like an airlock, but with rads. The door was seven feet high, 4 feet across, and made completely out of lead, the sinister black contrasting with the Vault's grey walls

. "Ok kid," Frank's voice crackled through the intercom in my suit "We've got thirty minutes of air in these things. Better work quick." I nodded, my forehead pressing against the glass helmet.

I slid my access card into the receiver next to the door; it's unlocking confirmed with a muffled _hissssss. _I stood back, waiting for the door to swing open….but it didn't.

Frank chucked through the intercom "it's a manual, so ya gotta to use your stringy arms!" I clicked on my intercom and gave him a sarcastic laugh "Haw haw haw, very funny. Now help me open this thing."

We both grabbed the black handles protruding from the lead door and pulled with all our might (ok using the word _might_ is kind of an exaggeration, one of us being scrawny and the other overweight), the door eventually gave way and granted us access to the dark chamber beyond it.

The room we entered was a circular all black chamber with another door identical to the one we just handled. "Another one?!" I moaned, forgetting to push the talk button. "Whad'ja say?" said my mentor. I remembered to push the button this time "I said; another door?" "Yeah." came his response "Close the one behind ya."

I did as he asked; thankfully it was easier to close than open. We repeated the process with the next door; as soon as we cracked it our PIP-Boys started clicking. It read: **+1R/Sec **(meaning I gained one point of radiation every second I stood there).

"Shit," said Frank "the rads aren't confined to the main generator room… there was a long pause "This is one hellofa leak." We started walking down the hall toward the generator. I noticed the walls were black instead of Vault-grey, making the hall appear darker than it actually was (half of the lights were burnt out, so it was still so dark that we needed to activate the lamps on our PIP-Boys).

"Hey, look at this." I said shining my glowing green lamp to the ceiling. It had a rusted hole in it about four feet wide. All I could see inside it was darkness. "What do ya think?" I asked over the radio. "Probably the RadRoaches," He crackled over the intercom "those _buggars_ could chew through solid steel." He paused "No pun intended." I was sure he was grinning in that dome of his, Frank loved puns and I think it really was intended.

As if on cue, three roaches skittered from the hole in the ceiling all at once. My H.U.D. marked them as hostile, shown by the red marks in the corner of my vision. These roaches were as Frank described them; big.

I immediately took a shooter's stance; legs spread, eyes forward, and both hands on my 9mm pistol. Frank did the same, although more slowly. I activated V.A.T.S. for the first time (I had done it previously in my years, but I didn't intend to kill anything.) and it slid into a state of time being nearly frozen. I targeted one of the Radroaches and marked three bullets into its body and one round into the antenna of the other insect next to it. I released V.A.T.S. The first three shots downed one roach and the fourth round wounded the other. Frank had killed the third Radroach with two shots into its body.

The last one alive skittered toward me, it may have been bulky for a bug but it was quick. My targeting system needed to recharge so I just fired my gun wildly at it. Most of the rounds missed but one glanced off of its exoskeleton. The bug reached me (two pieces hot lead flying hundreds of miles an hour and it's still coming?!) and tried to bite a hole in my yellow Rad-Suit. It didn't break thru though, the suit being made of heavy lead and all. I kicked that damned insect at least eight feet before Frank put a bullet in its soft underside. The Radroach stopped moving.

"Ya all right?" Frank asked. "Yeah," I replied "it tried to bite me but I'm fine." We continued down the dark hall into the main generator room. My PIP-Boy started clicking marginally faster as it read **+2R/Sec**, and continued even more rapidly as we reached the door to our destination.

Frank grabbed the circular handle to the door and it made an audible groaning sound as he pushed inside. Our PIPs now read **+7R/Sec**. (From what my classes taught me rads like that could peel flesh from the bone in under an hour).

We entered the room and it quickly became clear to both of us that hell was about to be raised. The Radiation Generator before us could either be described as "modern art" or more appropriately "Swiss cheese" because it had holes in its outer casing that I could fit my fist through. In the corner of the room lay what appeared to be a nest with smaller Radroaches crawling around it. (by smaller I meant baseball-sized instead of football-sized) The floor was covered in a lightly glowing-green half-liquid half-goo; it flowed freely from the deepest hole in the generator.

"Fuck!" I could faintly hear Frank shout through both of our helmets (no intercom needed). He proceeded to draw his gun and empty the entire clip into the roach nest, which leaked the irradiated goo. I considered doing the same, those bottom-feeders had potentially killed us all. Frank turned the radio on this time "Dammit, dammit, dammit! Those fuckers chewed through the titanium lining of the rad reservoir, I can't fix this!" He kicked the edge of the generator, his PIP-Boy spiking to **+12R/Sec **for a split-second. "Wait, WHAT?" I yelled "You mean it's impossible?!"

I couldn't believe it. I spent my entire life in Vault 75, for the entire time it was falling apart around me. My job was to reverse that process, to keep it running, I never failed. It had never even crossed my mind; _What if…I couldn't fix it? What if one of the machines was broken for good? What would happen? _I couldn't process that, but I had to. No generator means no power. No power means no life support. No life support means…well, I'll bet you can guess what that means. My entire world (which consisted of 100+ rooms of concrete and steel) was ending and it was a family of six-legged hellions that did it. I couldn't accept that.

"Wait, we- we've gotta fix it! Or, or else life couldn't go on, not for long anyway!" I pleaded to Frank over the radio. It was futile and I knew it, but I wouldn't give up. "Unless the Overseer is hiding about twenty pounds of titanium sheets and the tools to weld them this…" he gestured to the husk of a generator "…is unfixable!"

We stared in silence at the room, contemplating our dire situation; the only noises were the clicking of our PIPs. I realized that my radiation level was in the 150's; being close to having radiation poisoning I decided it was time to go. "Then I guess there's no point in being here. Let's go before we start hurling from the rads." Frank visibly sighed "The Overseers gonna be pissed."

And indeed she was pissed (with good reason!).

My mentor and I, along with the Overseer, stood in her square office again. The Overseer was throwing the mother of all fits, destroying office supplies, overturning file cabinets, throwing around the most colorful curses I've ever heard (funny thing was, she never repeated herself). She would've flipped he desk if it wasn't five times heavier than her. After a few minutes, the Overseer finally calmed down.

"Sonofabitch…alright you're the experts on radiation what do you propose we do about this?" She asked, giving us a glare that could stop someone's heart. "Evacuation." Frank replied instantly with a neutral tone. "s'what I figured." Said the Overseer

Our Overseer let out a shaky sigh. She sat at her desk and swept the remaining papers off of it, revealing a bright red button labeled _Intercom. _She drew a deep breath "Attention…people of Vault 75. It is my regret to inform you that our radiation generator is failing." She paused for around ten seconds. "Within the hour, the power to this Vault will be supported by our backup generator. The backup can last up to five years, but the radiation leaking from the generator room could seep into our living space in a week, two at best. So…I give you all a choice; stay here in the safety and certain death of the Vault, or evacuate the Vault and go out into the unknown. I will understand if you were to choose either way." Another long pause "I will be opting to leave myself, anyone who wishes to join me; gather up all the necessary supplies and meet me in the atrium in an hour. This has been Lauren, your Overseer, signing off for the last time. Godspeed everyone." With that, she ended the broadcast.

"So…" I slowly said to Frank "what are you going pick stay or go?" Frank scratched his moustache thoughtfully. "I think… I'm gonna go with the Overseer. She might be hotheaded, but she's a damn good leader. Just like her mother."

"I'll go with you; they could probably use another good grease monkey." I said, smiling slightly. "Just let me gather some supplies from my ro- What the hell?!" We had stepped into the residential wing; the entire area was in chaos. People were fist-fighting each other over stimpacks and cans of food, some were attacking with pool cues or baseball bats.

"Crap, my stash!" I shouted running down the hall toward my room. "Vin? Wait, where are you going?" I heard my mentor shout behind me.

_What is my stash? _One may ask. You see; I had anticipated that the radiation generator would give out soon. (Was I psychic or just lucky?) So I began hiding medical supplies in a locked drawer just in case I had to leave the Vault. Or, if I never had to use it I'd just tell my son or daughter (if I had any) where it is and he/she would pass it down to their kid and they would pass it down to THEIR kids and so on and so forth. I didn't anticipate that it would be me using the stash, though.

I reached my room; it was ransacked by one of the rioters, most of my valuable items gone. (Love thy neighbor my ass!) I checked the drawer, still locked. Good but…"Dammit!" I hissed. The key was missing, probably stolen by the rioter I suspected. "Who steals a key?" I thought out loud.

I still had an ace up my sleeve. The person who ransacked my room left the case of bobby pins on the shelf. I grabbed the box and peered inside, I still have ten left. This is probably the part where one of you readers asks: _Hey, you said you had short hair! What is with the bobby pins? _Well my friends I will answer that; lock picking.

I grabbed a screwdriver from my tool belt. I fit it into the bottom half of the drawer's lock and a bobby pin into the top half. After about a minute of twisting and guessing the locked clicked and I pulled open the drawer. Inside was three stimpacks, a dose of Rad-Away, and a syringe of painkiller labeled _Med-X._

"HAH!" I shouted in triumph, blissfully unaware of the person standing behind me with a frying pan raised.

**Pang!**

First there was pain. And then… there was only blackness.

"Oowww." I groaned rolling on the cold concrete floor. My head was pounding harder than a hangover and the room's lights were flickering. I tried to get up off the floor, an act yielding no success. So I just lay there for a spell. The pounding eventually receded and I could stand again. I checked the drawer: empty. "Whoever had stolen my meds sure had a helluva swing." I muttered to myself.

"_Wait…" _I thought, staring at the ceiling "_The lights aren't supposed to go out for another hour."_ I checked my PIP-Boy. The clock said 13:45 (That's 1:45 for those unfamiliar with military time); the medical page on my PIP said I had been unconscious for three and a half hours. "Damn." I groaned as I began to scan my room for anything of use. All I had found was my tough leather backpack and box of _Fancy lad snacks. _

I made my way out of the housing wing and into the atrium. As I suspected; the Overseer and her group were gone. In fact, everyone was gone. "I guess no one chose to stay in the Vault."I said to the empty room. (Great, now I'm talking to myself) I passed through the atrium, the cafeteria, and security. All of the rooms were ransacked, especially security. I had managed to gather a worn out 9mm pistol with only ten rounds in it. I also found a police baton, a bottle of purified water, and various other scraps of junk.

I stood in front of the Vault's main (and only) entrance, it was cracked open far enough for two men to walk through side-by-side. On the outside I saw half of a faded 75 on the door. It led to a cave, at the end of the cave I saw bright light filtering through a wooden door covering its mouth. I made my way to that door, throwing it open and running out into the vast expanse of the outdoors…..

I was out in the wasteland.

Footnote: Level up—Lv2

New Perk Added: Swift learner

_You are indeed a Swift Learner with this Perk, as each level will give you an additional +10% bonus whenever you earn experience points. Best purchased at an early level._

Comments? Questions? Criticism?

Just message me, all are welcome!


	2. Chapter 2

I do not own Fallout

It is owned by Bethesda

Same as last chapter…or is it?

Chapter 2: The Lone Star State

_On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair  
Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air  
Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light  
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim  
I had to stop for the night_

_-The Eagles_

Aggggh! Burning!

To this day, I still flinch when I see the sun. I've lived in the Vault 23 years, and fully expected to die inside there. It was no surprise that after a lifetime of living in a barely lit bunker seeing the sun for the first time would be a joy, and it was…I just needed to get over my eyeballs melting at first sight of that grand old star.

"Oh, son of a bitch hurts!" I yelled out loud as my hands shielded my face. I was doubled over on the ground trying to comprehend the burning sensation in my eyes and in my head. I've learned about the ecosystem of the outdoors, I knew that the sun was a big ball of light in the sky that provided Earth all of its energy but I never expected it to be this damn bright!

Prepared for the sun this time, I slowly opened my eyes. It took me a full three minutes to adjust to the new surroundings. As soon as I could fully raise my eyelids, I looked up to see the sky. Big mistake. It wasn't as bad as seeing the sun, although it wasn't fun either. Looking up into the great blue and white expanse, I became horribly dizzy. Thinking I might fall into that endless pit (falling upward, yeah, totally possible.) I grabbed ahold of a rusted metal post to steady myself.

I had calmed down and took a step back from the post, it was a sign. I tilted my head upward to read it, trying not to look directly at the sky again, I could make out the faded words on it. It said:

Exit 34B

Indiana 256 West

Austin – ½ Mile

'_Austin?' _I thought. _'Hmm…Austin, Austin, Austin, isn't that the capital of…uh….Texas? Yeah Texas.' _All the years living underground and I never knew where in America I lived. Sure, I knew the basic layout of the U.S. but geography wasn't exactly a subject my high school teachers delved into deeply since it was very likely we won't need it. Ironic.

Hell, I wasn't even sure there would be anything at all outside of the Vault. I heard stories about how outside was just a void of nothingness, which if you left you'd be doomed to fall into that void and disappear. I winced as I took another look at the sky. "Well they were half right about _The Void" _I said to no one in particular.

I turned around to take in my surroundings, pulling that box of _Fancy Lad Snack Cakes _I scavenged and began munching on them (it was probably the only clean food I'd see for a while). I could make out the skyline of what I assumed was Austin. The skyscrapers looked almost skeletal in the distance, some buildings had toppled after the bombs fell leaving large gaps in the city.

I finished the box of snack cakes an decided I'd be pointless to stay where I was. I check my PIP-Boy's watch; 14:03. I had less than half a day until nightfall, so I needed to find a place with food, water, shelter, and (hopefully) guns.

I followed he cracked highway, hoping to find an intact building I could set up shop in. The road itself didn't head directly north toward Austin, It wound off to the west going around the city. The road cut through a small forest (most of the trees dead) and it blocked my view of the city. I mentally noted that any supplies would most likely be on the outskirts, Austin itself probably being inhabited. That is, assuming there is anyone ALIVE.

The road led on, uneventfully for the rest of the day. I had not seen anything alive and moving, but fresh carcasses of what looked like two-headed cows suggested that there are things out here big enough to kill me. The sun had disappeared behind the dead forest and the stars and moon began to show. I had to find shelter soon, or risk sleeping under the stars as prey for any nocturnal hunters.

As luck would have it I turned a bend in the road and came across a one-floor, square, concrete building with a rusted metal sign on top of it. The sign read:

Crazy

Dee's

Super Ma…

(The rest is rusted away)

_'Probably a general store.' _I thought. The store was old and cracked, the windows were boarded up and the glass double doors were covered in graffiti, so I couldn't see inside. I was so eager to take shelter that I didn't see the "graffiti" was really dried blood.

The inside of the store is what I'd expected it to be. Empty soda bottles and bent tin cans littered the floors, some of the shelves were overturned, shopping carts were haphazardly scattered around the room, the overhead lighting was very dim, and the checkout register was smashed, its contents taken. I saw a light coming from the room across the store, accompanied by muffled voices and the shifting of feet.

I also heard a faint buzzing noise above my head. My stomach lurched as I saw what was hanging above my head. It was a rotting bloody torso, no head or limbs, hanging from a meat hook being displayed like a sick chandelier, flies were buzzing all around it.

I immediately bent over the checkout counter and began heaving up the contents of my stomach. I vomited for a good three minutes before I heard the voices from the other room, louder than before. I looked up to see three people standing across the room from me, two men and one woman. My H.U.D. marked two of them as hostile and one friendly. One man and the woman were dressed in what looked to be clothing made from black leather and various bits of junk, serving as rudimentary armor, their faces were mutilated with scars and piercings. My H.U.D. gave them the name of _"Raiders"._ The other man stood apart from the raiders, he was the non-hostile. He wore a dark brown duster going down to his ankles and a matching cowboy hat, hiding most of his face in shadow.

The male raider spoke first, with an evil grin on his face "Hey, looks like we got ourselves a live one!" he laughed like a maniac and pointed his crude wooden rifle at me. I jumped behind the checkout counter, barely missing my pile of puke, and drew my 9mm. The shot that the raider took glanced off of the counter. I returned fire. **Pop! Pop! Pop!** Three rounds, all missing the raiders who took cover after that. _'Seven bullets left.' _I told myself as I ducked back behind the counter.

I glanced over my cover; I could make out the raider's arm from behind a shelf. I carefully aimed a shot at that. **Pop! **_'Six rounds left'._ The bullet grazed his arm and I could hear him yelp and shuffle further behind cover. The man in the cowboy had was nowhere to be seen, neither was the she-raider. I ducked back behind cover, narrowly avoiding the raider's return fire.

I stood up again, hoping for a kill shot, when something heavy and metal slammed down on my right shoulder, causing me to drop my gun. Whoever had hit me used that metal pipe to choke me. "I got the fucker!" it was the voice of the female raider. "Great, bring 'em here!" the other one shouted back.

The she-raider loosened her grip on me and began to drag me over to the side of the store her partner was at. She threw me on the floor in front of him; he held the rifle to my head. "Look at this one, he's got one of them arm-computer-thingies!" The man in the cowboy hat stepped out from the adjacent room, eyeing my PIP-Boy. He took off his hat and I could see his face now, he had short greenish-brown hair and goatee. His eyes were a dark brown color.

After a minute of examining me on the floor he finally spoke, his accent was heavily southern "Looks like ye've found yer'self a rare treasure, not many people these days got a workin' PIP-Boy... I give y'all 3000 caps fer it." This man was different from the other raiders, to start off he seemed much more intelligent and calm than the twitchy raiders, and he was also free of blood stains and mutilation. I figured he wasn't with the other two.

"No way man!" was the raider's reply "We could buy a casino in New Vegas for one of those!" "We're fuckin' rich!" the other added. The male raider put away his rifle, pulled a knife, and held it to my throat, putting his face inches from mine (his breath stank of rotten meat). "Alright kid, you've got two choices: we cut off yer arm for that little trinket of yours, and ya live or we kill ya and take it. Your choice"

I felt myself shaking _'Well this is it, _I thought_ 'end of the line. Even if I did go free (which I seriously doubt I would) I'd just be left in the wasteland to bleed out, all alone. You've had a good run, Vin. Oh wait… no I didn't, I had a life of boredom and a death by psychopathic raiders.' _Then I did something both bold and incredibly stupid; I backhanded he raider. Not with my hand, but with the hard casing of my PIP-Boy. "Piss off."

The man stood up wiping blood from his nose "Bad move, asshole." He said. The female raider burst out laughing "Heheheh… damn Griff, he got you good!" "Shuddup!" He shouted back. He turned back to me, pulled his rifle, and put a round directly into my left shoulder. I screamed in pain, rolling on the floor and bleeding profusely. The raider named Griff spat out a wad of blood on me. "Guess that means ya pick death...slow death."

I could barely see anything going on after that, I was too focused on the pain in my shoulder. I could still hear the conversation. Cowboy Hat interrupted the raiders, who were probably moving in to carve me up. "Y'all sure about ma offer? It's a helluva lot better than the alternative."

"Hell yeah I'm sure! And whaz this '_alternative_'?" Replied Griff. Cowboy Hat sighed heavily.

"This."

**BLAM!**

**BLAM!**

I heard a muffled _"thud" _next to me (my eyes were still squeezed shut) before blackness took me and I passed out for the second time that day.

I awoke on a bloodied mattress, lying near a campfire. I was still indoors. _'Wait, a fire indoors? What the hell?' _I panicked a little as I sat up and saw the fire was surrounded by concrete bricks, to prevent it from burning down the house. _'Ok, not gonna burn alive. Bueno.'_ I noticed the entire upper-right side of my Vault suit was torn off, and replaced by bloody bandages. And more importantly my left arm and PIP-Boy were still there, where they should be. I rolled my unhurt shoulder, glad to still have it.

"Evening." Said a certain southern voice. I tensed up a bit as I noticed the man in the cowboy hat across the smaller room (it was only about a 12x8ft room) _'how did I not notice that?'_ "Uh…hi." I replied weakly. I looked around the room a bit; it looked like a brake room, judging by the Nuka-Cola vending machine.

"So I take it I get to keep my arm." I asked a little hopefully. The man chuckled "Ayep, it's ALL yours" he replied dramatically. (Sarcasm…I like this guy) "So I take it you saved me?" I asked as I glanced out the doorway, I could make out a pair of familiar bodies on the floor in the next room. "Ayep." He replied again.

"Alright then, so I guess I owe you. What's your name anyway?" The man grimaced a bit as I said "owe you". He stared at me for a second then said "Ya don't owe me a thing, son. And mah name's Sig." I stood up and held out my hand "My name is Vincent, and yes I do owe you for saving my life." He took my hand and shook it "I don't deny I saved your life, but you don't owe me. I don't need someone in mah debt."

"Fair enough." I said. "But can I ask you something?" Sig nodded. "What were you doing with those…_Individuals _anyway?_" _He sighed a bit, then answered "Tradin'." He picked up a large green sack roughly the size of his torso "I'm a travlin' merchant ya see."

"Ok. But why didn't they try to kill you or you try to kill them?" I asked. He answered by pulling apart the front of his duster (Ahhh! He's a flasher! No wait…), revealing a set of battered and burned combat armor underneath. "This armor here could stop a speedin' bullet. 'Specialy one from that pea shooter he had. Oh and also…" He pulled a large .44 magnum revolver from its holster and displayed it. The revolver had an ivory grip and a cylinder engraved with an intricate old west-style pattern, the barrel was engraved also it read _"Lorraine"_. "This here's mah baby; Lorraine. Picked her up from a guy in the Mojave who said he was a courier."

"Daaaaaamn, that explains that!" I said "So what now?" Sig shrugged, slinging the green bag over his shoulder. "I guess I keep on movin', lookin' fer mah next sale." A thought formed in my head as Sig started toward the door. "Wait! Can I uh…come with you?" Sig scowled a bit "I already told you ya don't owe me nuthin'."

"No no no, not as a servant or anything I mean like a…partner?" I stammered. He raised a brow at my request so I elaborated "You're a merchant right? Wouldn't it be useful to have someone else to help you carry your goods? And besides, there's always safety in numbers, even if that number is just two." Sig smirked at me. "Alright, but I get to keep most of the profits."

"So it's a deal then?" I asked. His smirk became a smile. "Deal." And with that we shook hands. "Sig, I see this becoming a wonderful partnership." I laughed. "Ayep."

Footnote: Level up—Lv3

New Perk Added: Intense Training (Endurance)

_With the Intense Training perk, you can put a single point into any of your S.P.E.C.I.A.L. attributes._

New Ally: Sig

Ally perk: Pack-Mule

_With the pack mule perk your ally gains +50 carry weight and +10 to you and your other allies._

Comments? Questions? Criticism? PM me I enjoy mail.


	3. Chapter 3

I do not own Fallout

It is owned by Bethesda

All that will change once Santa receives my letter.

Chapter 3: Nuclear

_No stop signs, speed limit_

_Nobody's gonna slow me down_

_Like a wheel, gonna spin it_

_Nobodys gonna mess me round_

_Hey Satan, paid my dues_

_Playing in a rocking band_

_Hey momma, look at me_

_I'm on my way to the promised land_

_Imp on the highway to hell_

_-AC/DC_

We filled the rest of that morning with small talk while we looked through the belongings of our dead hosts (May they rot in Hell). I found another pistol identical to my 9mm along with some rounds for it. Deciding that their leather armor (despite how It reeked) was better than a torn-up Vault suit, I took it and put the clothes on. Sig seemed to be picking up some seemingly random junk. Wrenches, duct tape, scraps of dead terminals, chunks of metal that wasn't rusted, tin cans, Abraxo Cleaner, Detergent, and other items like that. I decided to ask why.

"Hey, Sig. What's with all the random crap you're hoarding?" I asked, holding up a box of detergent as an example. He took the box and muttered his thanks. "Well if ya scavenge specific pieces of junk ya can make a buncha cool gadgets with 'em." He held up the detergent and Abraxo Cleaner "Fer' example; mix these with that special glowin' type of Nuka-Cola ya can make yerself a damn good bomb." He stuffed the boxes in his bag and pulled out a roll of tape. "Duct Tape and Wonderglue r' good fer holdin yer guns n' armor t'gether." He chuckled "Yer a Vault-guy ain'tcha?" I nodded "What gave me away? Was it the clothes? Or maybe it was the fact that I've had a shower more than once a year…" "Actually," he interrupted "It was the questions. Yall Vault-people ask questions NON-STOP. Guess I better tell ya the basics of the wastes so there ain't gonna be as many questions."

I nodded "Alright, what do I need to know?" Sig thought for a moment "Err…" He presented me with a stack of dollar bills and a stack of bottle caps with _Nuka-Cola_ on them. "See this pre-war money? Useless. Money 'round these parts are bottle caps. Some factions tried to mint their own kuz they thought caps were 'barbaric'. Most of 'em failed."

"Bottle caps? You're kidding." I asked. Sig gave me another big grin "Nope." Sig filled me in on everything important that I needed to know about the wastes, I didn't get the details but I understood the big picture.

We left the store at midday, continuing down the cracked highway toward Austin. As we walked the remains of the city came into view, I was closer so I could see the sprawling suburbs surrounding the city. We'd have to trudge through that to get to the center of Austin. Sig spent most of the trek explaining the city's situation to me. The outer parts of the city are littered with fallen skyscrapers making it very difficult to pass; no one lived there except for the wild animals. The inner parts of Austin were inhabited by a friendly town called Haven. Haven was at war with a group of slave traders that lived on the other side of the city. We were headed to Haven after a stop at the local abandoned gun factory.

We stood outside the hulking three story gun factory; there was a large billboard on the top that read:

S & S Munitions

Helping America protect themselves since 2023!

"Now this place's been picked clean on the bottom floors, but the top two floors r' protected by robots that'll shoot ya on sight, so be careful." Sig said as he threw open the front doors. There was a robot behind the front desk that served as a greeter; he had a very bad, mechanical, British accent.

"Hello sirs! Marvelous day isn't it? Please remember that floors two, three, and the basement are off-limits. Have a wonderful time!" The robot was a_ 'Mister Handy' _model. It consisted of a cyan sphere to serve as the body and three mechanical arms tipped with different tools. It didn't walk, but merely floated across the ground.

We both nodded at the robot as we walked into another room. There were several display cases that showed several different types of guns and ammo. Sig noticed my eyeing the cases, "Those guns r' fake, don't bother pickin' the lock."

There wasn't much to loot on the first floor so we found the stairs up, the door to the second floor looked like it was once locked, but the lock was blown off by buckshot. The second floor was somewhat cleaner than the first, probable the fact that anything human gets shot by the guard bots. "Hey," I said in a low voice "If most of the other scavengers met death by robot, why the hell are we up here?"

"Cuz!" Sig said loudly, making me wince "We know what we're doin'! And there ain't no need to whisper, the robots are damn-near deaf." We both drew our guns, I mentally noted how Sig's Lorraine was WAY more powerful than my 9mm pistol and my 5.56 bolt-action rifle (courtesy of a pair of dead raiders).

We moved down the hallway cautiously, I heard faint robotic chatter from another room "…No hostiles detected, continuing sweep…" I chuckled at the robots "Now, why do they just announce themselves like that? Their neither stealthy nor are they smart." Sig shrugged "Dunno, Probably just how they was made."

I cracked open the door to an office; among the cubicles I could see a patrolling robot. It was a Protectotrons model, the robots body looked like a large metal-plated pear with a glass dome on the top to serve as its eyes, ears, and laser weapon. Its arms and legs were stubby so it moved slowly and clumsily around the office.

I crept up on the bot, shifting from cubicle to cubicle. I had nearly snuck within touching distance and the Protector hadn't noticed me yet. I raised my bolt-action rifle to its dome-head and fired a single round (no V.A.T.S. needed). The H.U.D. on my PIP-Boy informed me that it had been a critical hit. The robot stumbled forward for a second but it still stood. "Intruders detected, all law-abiding citizens please vacate the area." The robot cracked in an emotionless tone. I fired another shot into its metal body, my rifle was too low of a caliber to penetrate its armor and instead the bullet just made a small dent.

"Vin, duck!" Sig shouted. I did as instructed and dropped to the floor, **Blam! Blam!** two rounds sailed over my head and put two big-ass holes in the robot. The protector sputtered a bit before falling to the floor in a smoking heap. "Thank-"my thanks were cut off by an alarm blaring throughout the compound **"Intruders detected on floor two, all S & S personnel vacate the building."**

"Shit, alarm system!" Sig shouted. Three Protectotrons clambered into the room, one blocking each exit. We both slid into the thin cover of the cubicles, (Fun Fact: while lasers may be deadly to unarmored opponents their material penetration is crap) I shouted over the torrent of laser fire "Hey Sig, got anything bigger than my rifle?" "No!" he shouted back "I got a couple o' ger'nades fer ya though!" He tossed me a pair of olive green hand grenades (Good thing he decided not to pull the pins) and I grabbed them.

I pulled the pin on the first one and tossed it over the low wall. There was a resounding **BOOM!** and the whole room quaked for a second. I risked a peek over my cover; the grenade had taken out two of the three bots. The survivor countered my grenade by using his laser to dissolve the entire cubicle surrounding me (Fun Fact #2: While lasers may not have any penetration power it makes up for the fact that they have a small chance to cause a molecular chain reaction that can TURN YOU INTO DUST). I dove from the pile of ashes that now surrounded me to what looked like a pre-war copying machine, the bot had clipped me on the shoulder leaving burns on the armor I picked up from the raiders.

I slid out of cover and kicked on V.A.T.S., queuing two rounds directly into the robot's dome. **Bang!...Bang!** the first shot missed its head by mere centimeters and the second hit dead center. Like the last robot, this one survived a direct bullet to the head and continued firing its laser, lumbering closer to the spot I was dug in at. Sig stood up from his cover and took aim at the Protectotron **Blam! **His shot hit the bot in its dome an inch to the left from where I had shot it. The robot fell to the floor, like its friends.

There were now four smoking piles of scrap where robots once stood, patrolling the halls of this building for the last 200 years. I popped open a panel on the nearest scrap-heap and began salvaging some of the more valuable pieces of circuitry. Who knows? I could make my own Protectotron if I ever find a place to settle down in the wasteland. That idea got me thinking _'What are my plans for the future even going to be? For now it would be following Sig, but I hadn't even asked him what HIS long-term goals are.'_ I finished salvaging the scrap electronics from the dead robots. I decided to ask Sig about his plans later.

We continued sweeping through the second floor of the building, killing robots and looting anything valuable left. The alarm was still blaring, but we had killed all of the robots on the floor so it was pointless to keep the noise on. I came upon a locked door labeled _President Finley's office_. The lock was a tougher one to pick ;( The alarm breaking my concentration wasn't helping either) I had lost three bobby pins to it but it finally clicked and allowed us into the office.

The room was furnished with a large desk covered with decaying papers, a faded name plate that said _President Charles Finley,_ and a rusted, but still operational terminal. There were a few old filing cabinets; one of them had a box of .357 magnum slugs inside of it. On the wall was a rectangular glass case; inside of it was a brass-plated cowboy style revolver in pristine condition with engravings on it similar to Sig's Lorraine, its grip was made of a dark oak with a few words carved into it, the case was so dusty on the outside that the word was unreadable. "Dibs." I called.

I tested the case _'Locked, duh.' _ "Here." Sig said as he rummaged through his large bag (I could swear that thing was bigger on the inside) and pulled out a heavy lead pipe which he tossed to me. I caught the blunt object and motioned for Sig to back away. I took a stance like I was a batter in a baseball game and swung full force into the glass case. The pipe bounced off of the glass harmlessly (And hurt my arm like hell). "Figures," Sig grumbled "S'probably bulletproof. " "Damn."

I decided that before I tried picking the lock on the case I should shut off the alarm. I check the terminal on the (former) president's desk. Locked too. I wasn't an administrator for S&S so I didn't know the password. But there was more than one way to hack a terminal. I typed in several commands that were meant to reset the password. I'm not going to bore you with the specific of how to hack a computer; most of it will go right over your head. But I will say that it involved a little bit of guesswork. After a few guesses I finally found the password (it was 'password1' in case anyone was wondering. Real original, Mr. Finley).

I rummaged through the computer's files and found three things; an emergency alarm shutoff (Thank god!), an audio log which I transferred to my PIP-Boy, and a command that electronically unlocks the gun case. After I activated the last command, the glass case next to me popped open with a '_hissss_'. I could see the revolver clearly now and It. Was. Gorgeous. Even after two centuries it was still one of the shiniest things I've ever seen in the wastes. The gun stood out from the grey, decayed room like a diamond in a pile of coal. I picked it up, the inscription on the grip read _'The Screamer'_. I loaded it with the .357 slugs from the filing cabinets. The Screamer was cowboy-style revolver, so the rounds had to be loaded one by one and the hammer had to be pulled back after each shot.

Sig whistled appreciatively at my new piece. "Real nice loot ya got there pardner." "Jealous?" I asked with a smirk "Naw, "he replied with a bigger smirk as he spun the cylinder on his Lorraine "mines bigger."

We swept through the rest of the gun factory, killing off the rest of the stray robots. I now owned a gun of much higher caliber; the holes that The Screamer put into the Protectotrons were marginally smaller than Sig's, but they were still pretty friggin' effective. We went about the process of looting the building, finding a good bit of caps and ammo. Sig decided to save the ground floor for last; he had heard there was a locked door that no one had been able blow open with explosives. (Am I the only one in the wasteland who knew how to pick a lock?).

The basement where the actual factory part of this place was eerily similar to my Vault, being underground and all. Everything of value was taken long ago, probably due to the fact that there had never been any guard bots stationed on that floor. We made our way to the end of the broken down factory, finding a large steel door, sealed shut with a series of inner gear mechanisms, but it was still opened by a key, making the lock on it still pick-able.

I wedged my bobby pin and screwdriver into the lock; it was a tough one (even without blaring sirens) tougher than the president's office. Within a minute I had lost half a dozen pins. "Damn you!" I shouted at the inanimate object as six pins became seven. (Unsurprisingly, it did not reply) I heard the telltale sounds of Sig digging through his big green pack, something I realized he did all too often. He tapped me on the shoulder with a roll of paper. I looked back to see him presenting me a magazine. "Try this." He said simply. I took the glossy book of paper and unrolled it. The title read _'Locksmiths Reader', _I skimmed the various articles in the magazine until, lo and behold, I found a whole three paragraphs on the locking mechanisms for the model of door that I had been working on. I re-read the article twice before I attempted the lock once more.

Without any other resistance, the door gave way without as much as another broken pin. I could hear the rusty inner-working of the steel door shift and grind it finished unlocking. The door disappeared down into the floor, being the automated type. (It's amazing how these things still have electricity.) I stepped into the room that had been closed for two centuries and what I found was…indescribable.

GUNS! WONDERFUL GUNS! The walls were lined with dusty black assault rifles, high powered sniper rifles, pump-action shotguns, and an ominous black safe set on a pedestal in the center.

Both I and Sig were practically dancing at the sight of our good, no EXCELLENT fortune. Assault rifles were rare in the wastes, and there was at least fifteen in good condition along the wall. "Hot Damn!" Sig shouted as he grabbed a rifle to inspect it. He gave it a good once-over and turned to me "Almost perfect cn'dition." He said, unceremoniously shoving it into his backpack.

"Wonder what's in that safe…" I though aloud. "I don't rightly know, who dont'cha find out?" Sig replied. I checked the black safe, strangely it was unlocked. I slowly pulled it open and there was a subtle _beep _as it swung open fully. Inside was a motion sensor module wired into what looked like a large olive-green egg with a yellow symbol that meant _'radioactive, stay the fuck away!' _(I was paraphrasing of course). Under the 'egg' was a digital timer that was…counting down from ten? '_What the hell?'_ I though, just as it reached 00:08 seconds. _'You idiot, __**IT'S A BOMB**__!'_ My mental self screamed at me.

"Shit, RUN!" I shouted at Sig and we began a mad dash for our lives in the opposite direction of the bomb. We stumbled out of the room and I turned around to the console behind the door, punching a few buttons causing the reinforced steel door to close behind us. We proceeded to dive behind a set of rusted conveyor belts, covering our heads.

There was an eardrum-splitting, earth-shattering, deafening explosion that seemed to shake the entire wasteland. It went on for a full five seconds before the sound receded. My PIP-Boy began clicking at a rate of **+1R/Sec. **We both got up from our prone positions, thankfully unharmed. I saw that the steel door had been blown open; it looked similar to putting a cherry bomb inside a tin can. "What in the ever-loving hell was THAT?!" I shouted "A bomb!" Sig shouted back sarcastically. "I know that, what makes an explosion that big?" I asked a little more calmly, gesturing to the remains of the door. "Was prob'bly a Mini-Nuke." Sig sighed, peering into the room. Everything inside was melted and warped into a pile of useless slag. "What a waste." I said sadly "What did we save?" He pulled the rifle out of his bag, along with a pair of cardboard ammo boxes. "One marksman rifle and two boxes a' 5.56 ammo…"

"Dammit." Sig moaned "Goddammit." I agreed

Footnote: Level up—Lv4

Quest Perk Added: Mr. Roboto

_You've seen the inside of many a robot, you know how they operate and can now hit them harder +20% damage against machines._

New Perk Added: Gun Nut (1)

_You are obsessed with using and maintaining a wide variety of conventional firearms. With each rank of the Gun Nut perk, you gain an additional 5 points to the Guns and Repair skills. _

Authors note: Sorry for the extremely slow writing pace, I've been busy with an English project and various holiday-related tasks. Now that I have my Christmas Vacation I can hopefully post once a week. Also, did anyone catch all the references in here? Anyone? There are three of 'em.

Got any comments, questions, or cririsim?

Go ahead and PM me, I need feedback!


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